


she's just a girl (but she's on fire)

by tambuli



Series: matilda potter stories [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Bisexual Character, Desi Harry Potter, Desi Potter Family (Harry Potter), F/F, Female Draco Malfoy, Female Harry Potter, Gen, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, but seriously it takes a while for these themes to show up because mattie is currently ten, gen for now - Freeform, it will be real gay soon though, you get a lil bit though bec she is crushing on isobel HARD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-20 13:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16138433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tambuli/pseuds/tambuli
Summary: Little Matilda "Mattie" Potter has known, ever since her librarian handed her a book named MATILDA, that she was special. It takes an attempt on her life and an untold story to tell her just how much, though. Fem!Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this work by saying I am not desi, nor am I from the United Kingdom--I hail from Southeast Asia. But the idea of non-Caucasian Harry Potter has always intrigued me, and I wanted to try my hand at it. And then I was on ffnet and came across some femHarry fics, and thus Matilda Potter was born.
> 
> If I get anything wrong, or say/write something offensive, please, please tell me. I only want to write and learn.

“Once upon a time,” a small voice began haltingly, “in a land far, far away from Little Whinging, Surrey, there lived a beautiful princess named Mattie.”

The voice fell away, as if the speaker didn’t know what to say next. Then she--for it was a she--started again, filling the dark cupboard--for our speaker was lying in a cot in a cupboard--with her story.

“She had two parents, King James and Queen Lily, and they all lived together in a palace made of glass. The glass was clear and unbreakable, and the palace had been built because Princess Mattie wanted to see the sun in the morning and the moon at night. And because  
King James and Queen Lily loved--loved Princess Mattie very much, they   
agreed."

The small, dark cupboard seemed to transform as the speaker continued. Eyes squished shut, the speaker described the view from within the Palace of Glass. If she tried very hard, she could almost feel the sunshine on her face--

"…in spring, there would be animals bounding everywhere in the palace grounds, and in summer you could see endless fields of green through the walls of the palace. In fall, red and yellow piles of leaves were everywhere, and In winter the snow was so white and pure it rivaled a dove's wing." Our speaker had never seen a real dove, but knew that doves' wings were white, and so she had put it in, because it sounded suitably romantic and fairy-story-like. "But it was never cold in the Palace of Glass, because fires were always lit to keep Princess Mattie warm. And Princess Mattie had a pet dog named Padfoot, who curled up at the foot of her be to sleep, so her feet were never cold when she woke up."

And so the speaker told stories to herself until she fell asleep.

Ten-year-old Princess Mattie, or Matilda Potter as she was known in the mundane world, was an extraordinarily small girl. Perhaps she seemed even smaller was because all she had to wear was her cousin Dudley's outgrown clothes, and Dudley was about four times bigger than she was. But nevertheless, people always noticed two things about Mattie first: her smallness, and then her hair.

Her hair was big, and Mattie was small--this was not an either-or statement, but rather a pair of facts that established Mattie Potter's hair was long, and curly, and messy, and so thick it seemed to curl around her whole upper body. It dwarfed her thin, brown face, swallowed up her skinny shoulders, then enveloped her knobby elbows, before finally ending at her lower back. It was so big Mattie could hide in it, like a veil.

Mattie's size and Mattie's hair--those were the first two things people noticed about her.

And then she looked up at you, and her scar and eyes arrested you.

Mattie had a big scar, like forked lightning, spreading across the left side of her forehead and down her eye. If she closed her left eyelid you could see even the skin of her eyelid was scarred. But Mattie could see just fine--her bright green eyes looked up at you from behind the scar and the big hair.

Mattie often closed her eye and traced the lightning bolt across her face. It was the one thing she had from the car crash that killed her parents.

"Lily didn’t manage to protect you from the glass," Aunt Petunia said curtly, when Mattie asked about the scar. "No more questions."

Lily was Aunt Petunia's sister, and when Lily and her husband died, Mattie had been sent to live with Aunt Petunia at Number Four, Privet Drive. And that meant living with Aunt Petunia's husband, Vernon Dursley, and their son, Dudley.

Vernon Dursley was a man that would come off unfavorably if compared to a walrus, so we won't do that. Instead we'll say that he was a man with a voice that, if raised, could make the windows rattle; had too much chin and not enough neck; and was particularly fond of reminding Mattie how lucky she was to be raised by them.

"Normal people," he would say. " _English_ people. Learn the language proper, is what I say. If they're going to stay here they might as well sound _English._ "

Aunt Petunia on the other hand was a woman who had in her relatively short life been compared to a horse multiple times, so we won't do that either. Instead we'll say she was a thin blonde woman with a little too much neck, which was perfect for spying on Number Three, Privet Drive. She had an especial interest in Mrs. Number Three's affairs, mostly because Mrs. Number Three had once beaten her in a gardening contest when Mattie and Dudley were three. She hadn't given up thinking Mrs. Number Three might have cheated.

Dudley was his father in miniature, but blond like his mother. His greatest talent lay in screwing up his face and letting out wails that rattled the windows--wails that got him everything he could want, from more Mars Bars and Hershey's Kisses to shoes that lit up when you stamped. Mattie had spent weeks sick with jealousy until Dudley stamped too hard and broke the mechanism. Ever since then, the shoes were left to rot in Dudley's second bedroom.

Aunt Petunia always looked comical in family pictures with her husband and son, because she was tall and thin and her husband and son were two blobs. Mattie rather thought they looked like a 100, but with a rather smaller 0 to account for Dudley not being as large as his father yet.

What Mattie would look like in family photos with them, she didn't know. She wouldn't fit in, anyway, so she didn't want to know.

What she would look like in family photos with her parents, she didn't know either. But unlike the Dursley family portraits, she wanted desperately to know.

 

xxx 

 

Morning broke the same way it always did--with Aunt Petunia's voice shrilling, "Mattie! Up!"

"M'wake," Mattie mumbled, though she wasn't really. She was still blinking from the remnants of her dream. She hadn't dreamed of the Palace of Glass--unfortunate--but she had dreamed of bright, lovely lights dancing in front of  her face, as she laughed and tried to catch them.

She had a strange feeling she'd dreamt that before.

"Are you awake yet, girl?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Mattie responded, hurrying into her clothing. She picked off a spider from her shoes--probably Marie, but she wasn't certain. But still, by the time she was dressed, Dudley had thundered down the stairs and demanded breakfast, to which Aunt Petunia responded, "Coming, Diddykins!--Mattie! Where are you?"

Mattie fried rasher after rasher of bacon and egg after egg for Dudley and Uncle Vernon, until it was time to go to school. Then Aunt Petunia shoved a piece of toast into her hands, and pushed her out the door.

Just like always.

But today, Mattie thought as she nibbled on her toast, was going to be different.

Mattie hadn't any friends, except the librarian Miss White, and maybe her homeroom teacher Mrs. Bee, and everyone knew teachers (and librarians) didn't count. But today was Isobel Grange's eleventh birthday, and she was going to give out cupcakes to everyone, and Mattie was going to say happy birthday and give Isobel the sketch of her Mattie had been working on all recess and lunch for the whole week, and Isobel would say thank you and smile and she and Mattie would be _friends_.

Mattie was proud of the sketch of Isobel she'd made. It showed her sitting at her desk during maths, staring out the window and into the sky. Isobel's catlike grey eyes were distant, as if she were daydreaming of someplace far, far away from maths.

The sunshine glinted off Isobel's golden hair--Mattie didn't have colored pencils, so she made do with shading with regular pencils--and bounced onto the half-solved maths problems on the desk. Mattie had thought herself very clever when she carefully wrote the answers to tomorrow's homework in tiny lettering on the drawn maths problems. This, and the sketch, would be her gift to Isobel, because she knew the other girl struggled with maths.

People liked that, right--when you drew pictures of them, and helped them with their studies? Mattie remembered learning in class that before there were photographs, there were paintings. People would sit for a long time for someone to paint them, then when it was all over they would pay gobs of money to the painter.

Mattie didn't want Isobel to pay her--she just wanted to be her friend.

So today was going to be different.

"Happy birthday, Isobel," she managed, when the golden-haired girl came around to her row bearing cupcakes. Isobel looked at her and dimpled, and Mattie felt her hands begin to shake. She felt around for the sketch she had hidden in her desk.

"Hi, Matilda. Have a cupcake," she said hospitably.

"Thank you, I will," Mattie said.

Isobel dimpled again, and, cupcakes all handed out, turned to leave.

"Wait!" Mattie called, as her fingers closed around the sketch. "I have--I have something for you, Isobel. A birthday gift."

Isobel didn't even turn all the way around. Instead, she looked over and smiled. "It's okay, Matilda. Keep it. I'm sure you need it more than I do."

"No, wait, it's not--" Mattie tried. But Isobel was already gone.

 

xxx

 

Later, Mattie thought, she might have been able to bear it, might have been able to approach Isobel and explain that her gift wasn't anything she needed, it was just a drawing. She might have been able to bear it, if she hadn't heard Mrs. Bee and Isobel talking as she came back from the loo.

She'd gone right before going home to Privet Drive, so that if Aunt Petunia locked her in the cupboard, she'd at least not need to pee. Then she heard Mrs. Bee and Isobel talking, and she stopped.

She should have known better, really--eavesdroppers never hear anything nice.

"Those were lovely cupcakes, Isobel," Mrs. Bee said. "Did you help make them?"

"Oh, yes."

"And you got ever so many presents! Tell me, if it's all right with you, what did Mattie get you? She's been working so hard all week and she wouldn't tell me what it was!"

"Oh, I told her to keep it," Isobel said sunnily. "She's so poor, Mrs. Bee, she can't afford to be going around giving presents. I mean, have you seen her clothes? I'm sure she'll find a better use for whatever it is."

Green eyes blurring with tears, Mattie turned and ran.

Before too long, the run turned into a walk, and the walk became a trudge, as Mattie made her way back to Number Four, Privet Drive.

Did Isobel really think her so poor? And her clothes so ugly? Mattie knew she hadn't any money, and Dudley's clothes didn't fit her, but the clothes were of good brands and weren't worn yet--Aunt Petunia never let any of Dudley's clothes get worn. She passed them down to Mattie before they ever reached that stage. And anyway Mattie hadn't spent any money on Isobel's present, just a lot of time and effort that now felt like it had gone to waste.

_She's so poor…she can't afford to be going around giving presents…have you seen her clothes?_

She felt the tears beginning to spill over, and ran as fast as she could to Number Four before anyone on the street could see her beginning to cry.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon weren't home yet, and Aunt Petunia hadn't called for her the moment she stepped in, so Mattie dared to go to the upstairs bath, which had a mirror.

Dudley's clothes hung on her skinny frame like clothes on a hanger. They didn't look right on her--not the balloony red sweater, not the too-big beige pants she had to wrap a belt twice round for them to stay up. She was practically swimming in fabric.

She looked like a girl dressed in castoffs because nobody loved her enough to buy her clothes that fit.

Cheeks dark with humiliation, green eyes burning with shame, she ran downstairs to her cupboard to have a good cry.

 _Once upon a time,_ she mouthed to herself softly, fist pressed against her mouth so no one would hear her sob, _there lived a beautiful princess named Mattie, and her parents King James and Queen Lily loved her so much they always had her clothes made to fit…_

"That's it!" she cried out loud, then hushed. "Made to fit! Of course! I'll learn how to sew!"

She wiped her tears and immediately began planning, with the help of her one bare bulb. And if a few stray tears made their way down her cheeks, well, who but Marie the spider would ever know?


	2. Chapter 2

"Mattie!" the librarian Miss White exclaimed as Mattie walked through the library doors the next day. "It's good to see you."

Despite herself, Mattie smiled as Miss White. She liked the redheaded woman. Miss White didn't smile often, but she did smile at every kid, and she had an especial smile for Mattie, Mattie felt.

Miss White was much nicer than Mr. Thompson, who was the librarian last year. He scowled at everybody and looked at Mattie funny when she checked out the Big Book of Fairytales again, as if she was too big to be reading fairy stories.

"Hi, Miss White," Mattie said. "Where can I find some beginner's books on sewing?"

Something flickered across Miss White's face, but Mattie wasn't sure what it was. "Over on that shelf, dear. Are you looking to start up a new hobby?"

Mattie flushed, and, without meaning to, looked down at her clothes—today an overlarge plaid patterned sweater and even larger denim pants. They hung on her frame as if she were a scarecrow, something she'd never noticed until today.

"I see," Miss White said, and guided Mattie to the correct shelf. "Well, here you are. Call me if you need anything, Mattie. I'm a fair seamstress myself."

"Really?" Mattie asked, fascinated. Another thing about Miss White was that she always looked impeccably put-together—she wore the prettiest, softest sweaters and the nicest jeans, and her red hair was always plaited down her back. Some of her sweaters had the letter M on them, for Mary, Miss White once told her. _And_ Miss White knew everything there was to know about the books in the Little Whinging library. Mattie desperately wanted to grow up like her.

"Before I started earning my own money, there was a lot of…thrift shop hunting," Miss White said, mouth twisting into a small smile.

Only Mattie's good manners kept her from gaping. Miss White wasn't rich? Or at least, didn't grow up rich? But she was so pretty!

Instead of voicing her thoughts, she smiled at Miss White and bent her head down her sewing books.

That day, Mattie learned there were two basic stitches, and she could basically make anything with those two stitches: the running stitch and the backstitch. The running stitch, she learned, could be used to shorten the length of anything by just holding up the excess fabric, while the backstitch was a more stable sort of stitch to repair seams and things like that.

She was just getting into things like ripping seams and cutting patterns when Miss White approached her again.

"Mattie," Miss White said, "you've been working so hard on your sewing all afternoon. I thought I'd help you out a little. Here you go."

She pressed a silver bag into Mattie's hands.

It was the most beautiful sewing kit: a zipped bag full of thread in every color of the rainbow and then some; needles of every size and shape one could ever need; a long tape measure that trailed on the floor; seam rippers and bias tape and all the things Mattie had only learned about that afternoon; and best of all, sewing shears. Mattie had been plotting how to get Aunt Petunia's sewing shears from her, with only a small hope of success, and now Miss White was just handing it to her.

"Miss White, I couldn't possibly—"

"Mattie," Miss White said, and took a seat next to the girl. "I was once very poor, and I just wanted to be pretty. Sewing helped me with that, at least a bit. Now I want to pass the gift to you. Is that all right?"

Mattie, too choked up to speak, nodded. She turned the silver bag over in her hands, and saw a monogrammed MP on the back—she felt herself tearing up again. Miss White had taken the time to either buy her a monogrammed bag or embroider it on herself—and when had she gotten the time to do that?—and she had never gotten a real gift before (the coat hanger from the Dursleys last Christmas didn't count).

"Now go on," Miss White said. "I think you have a few clothes to alter."

 

xxx

 

Mattie frowned at the red sweater lying on the floor of her cupboard.

It had seemed much easier in theory to rip the seams out and cut the excess fabric off, before sewing the seams back up. In reality, though, Mattie had been tussling with the seams for a quarter of an hour, and the sweater was beginning to look like a poor, discarded piece of clothing rather than the pretty, fitted red jumper Mattie had imagined it becoming.

She scowled.

“You WILL obey me,” she informed the sweater. “I will alter you, and then tomorrow I’ll wear you, and Isobel Grange will want to be my friend once she finds out I’m not _poor_ and my clothes aren’t _ugly._ ”

Suddenly, right before her eyes, the red sweater shrank!

It shrank and it shrank until it reached a size that would fit Mattie comfortably, and then it stopped shrinking and lay there innocently, as if it had not just performed a feat, of, well, MAGIC!

Mattie gaped.

Then she rushed to the sweater and began checking it over frantically. Nothing was wrong with it—it was perfect! It was just as if someone had bought it specifically for Mattie—the size tag on the back even read S, for Small, instead of XXL for Dudley.

Slowly, Mattie pulled it over her head. It fit perfectly.

She looked down at the red sweater, and the only thing on her mind was, _What just happened?_

 

Of course she had to try again. She laid out the clothes she had chosen for her sewing experimentation: Dudley’s big denim pants, t-shirts so giant she was swimming in them, several button-downs that hadn’t survived the way Dudley ripped them off after wearing them. (Mattie swore to learn how to fix buttons back on.)

But no matter how much she stared or ordered, “You WILL fit me,” the clothes didn’t even so much as twitch.

Mattie settled down and began ripping the seams of the t-shirts, intent on making something to wear under her red sweater the next morning. She was going to make the excess fabric of the t-shirt into a skirt if she had time.

Or she was, but her eyes began to droop, and she was so, so sleepy…

 

xxx

 

The next few weeks saw Mattie spending time in her cupboard of her own volition, mostly because Dudley couldn’t fit inside and ruin what she was doing. Dudley didn’t roughhouse with her, but he took an especial delight in ripping up and destroying whatever things of hers he could get his hands on—her notebooks, her library books, her homework…she was not going to put it past him to destroy her sewing experiments if he ever caught wind of what she was doing.

As the winter holidays approached, Mattie’s closet only grew and grew, until she was wearing something that fit her every day of the school week. The day she managed to transform one of Dudley’s overlarge pants into overalls that actually fit her, she might have cried just a little. Miss White threw her a huge, beaming smile that day, and she felt warm all over.

Then she stole a glance at Isobel Grange, but Isobel was talking with Marianne on the other side of the playground, wearing a pink sweater and green pants that were so obviously bought for her. Mattie had to look away.

She still wanted to be Isobel’s friend, but she also couldn’t get rid of the pervasive sound of Isobel’s voice:

_She’s so poor…have you seen her clothes?_

_She’s so poor…_

_She’s so poor…_

_Have you seen her clothes?_

_I have,_ Mattie thought to herself fiercely. _And they’re just as good as yours, now!_

The Friday before winter holidays, Aunt Petunia stopped her as she was on her way out the door.

“Where did you get those clothes, Mattie?” she asked.

Mattie swallowed, then affected a most disinterested air. If she ever showed that she wanted something, or didn’t want something, that would make the Dursleys more interested in taking the thing she wanted or making the thing she didn’t want to happen, happen. So she had to pretend to be absolutely calm about everything.

“I altered them, Aunt Petunia,” she said. “Out of Dudley’s old clothes that you gave me.”

Aunt Petunia gave Mattie a once-over.

She was far from the forlorn little girl in oversized clothing, now. Mattie had taken a button-down of Dudley’s, which had lace at the throat, and altered it to fit her. She’d then taken some fabric from Dudley’s ripped denims and remade it into a skirt. Her shoes were still her old ratty sneakers, because she couldn’t alter any of Dudley’s shoes to fit her, but they were clean, unlike Dudley’s which were always muddy and which either Aunt Petunia or Mattie had to clean all the time.

Most of all, she had managed to wrangle her hair into a plait down her back (just like Miss White!) so her scar and her bright green eyes were in full view.

“You’ve done well,” Aunt Petunia said, then left.

Mattie was left staring at her aunt, utterly in shock.

But the surprises were not to end there.

Mattie dropped by the library to return some of the advanced sewing books she’d taken out, because she might not be allowed out of the house for winter holidays and she didn’t want to incur any fines. Miss White smiled at her, as usual, then beckoned her over behind the counter—less usual.

“Mattie,” Miss White said, “I’m glad you dropped by.” She was all wrapped up in a black peacoat and a green scarf today, Mattie noticed—it must be very cold where she lived, because it wasn’t that chilly in Surrey yet.  “I have a Yule present for you.”

“For _me_?” Mattie couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t even known Miss White a year, and there she was giving presents to Mattie. Two presents, even!

“For you,” Miss White said, and pulled out a gold-wrapped present from within her coat. “I saw the name and couldn’t resist, and anyway it’s time you started reading something other than sewing books, my girl!”

My girl. Mattie all but glowed as she accepted the gift from Miss White.

“Thank you so much!” she said. She wanted to unwrap the present now, but knew that was rude to do. Miss White seemed to know what she was thinking, and she stooped down and gave Mattie a big, big hug.

“Happy Yule, my dear,” she said, and turned to leave.

And for the second time that day, Mattie was left staring after a woman walking away.

 

xxx

 

Miss White gave her a book called MATILDA, which made Mattie giggle. Matilda, just like her! In her cupboard, with her one bare bulb, she settled down with Marie the spider and began to read aloud.

Instead of the usual _Once upon a time, there lived a princess named Mattie,_  Marie the spider was treated to _It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful._

Mattie stifled a giggle—that was Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to Dudley, any day!

She read on and let out a soft _Whoa_ as Matilda—the book character, not Mattie—taught herself to read at the age of three, something Mattie wasn’t even sure Dudley, at almost eleven, had mastered. She kept reading as Matilda discovered the library—she was warm all over, Mrs. Phelps reminding her very much of her own Miss White—and began to journey to all the different places that books could bring her.

Mattie was feeling very much like that now, as reading the book transported her to a little library in a small town, with a watchful and compassionate librarian and a small four-year-old girl reading on an armchair, holding a book much too big for her.

“ _The Secret Garden_ ,” she thought aloud. “Well, maybe if I can leave the house over hols I’ll borrow the book from the library. And more books by this author, too!”

And she read and read until her eyes were beginning to tire out, and still she kept going. She read past the OIL OF VIOLETS, she read past the parrot debacle, she read past Matilda meeting Miss Honey (another person like Miss White!), she read past Bruce Bogtrotter and the chocolate cake, until she finally arrived at the part where Matilda, with the power of her eyes, managed to tip over the glass with a newt onto the blouse of the disgusting Headmistress Trunchbull.

Mattie sat up very straight.

“I’m Matilda,” she said, in a slow, breathless voice. “I’m just like Matilda Wormwood! I’m _magic!_ ”


	3. Chapter 3

How many times had something inexplicable happen just because Mattie needed it to? Her now-favorite sweater was just the most recent example, too. Mind racing, Mattie remembered the time Dudley and his gang were chasing her, intent on stealing her homework to tear it all up. She'd sprinted all the way to the playground, intending to climb to the jungle gym, when all of a sudden all the trash cans in Dudley's way toppled over, sending garbage every which way. Dudley had skidded on a banana peel, just like in the cartoons, and fell so badly he sprained his ankle.

Thankfully, no one blamed Mattie for that incident—though the wind was not blowing especially hard that day, everyone blamed the wind for the trash cans toppling over, and Dudley for his own clumsiness for the sprained ankle.

On the other hand, Mattie had received a shrill scolding and a week in her cupboard the time her mean teacher, Mr. Levine, had his toupee turned blinding orange. He was castigating her for not doing her homework, and she was trying to explain that that day, she hadn't managed to evade Dudley's gang, but Mr. Levine simply wouldn't believe it. She was so angry she felt—oh! Was this what Matilda felt?—the hairs on her arms rising, her eyes growing hot, and then _poof_ , Mr. Levine's black toupee turned orange.

Mattie felt a smile break across her face.

"I'm magic," she informed Marie reverently, and the spider rubbed her front legs together. Mattie stroked her.

She dove back into the book, wanting to know more about Matilda's magic.

 

xxx

 

The thing was, Mattie thought later, she wasn't a super genius like Matilda.

Her marks weren't bad, certainly better than Dudley's, and while Aunt Petunia scowled Uncle Vernon just said gruffly he didn't want a snotty swotty nancy-boy of a poof son anyway. But she was definitely nowhere near the level Matilda was, to be able to use her brain power.

Which meant maybe she and Matilda had different magics.

But different magic or not, the book told her that Matilda got better at her magic by practicing. Mattie was going to practice, too.

The winter hols were upon them, but thankfully Mattie was allowed out of her cupboard since she hadn't done anything. She made a beeline for the Little Whinging Library, where she found Miss White and an unknown, pretty, dark-haired woman conversing.

"Oh, Mattie," Miss White smiled, cutting off what her friend was saying. "Just a moment, Stella was just bringing me my lunch."

Mattie looked at the dark-haired woman curiously. She was very pale, with high cheekbones and thin, pale lips. It was the sort of mouth that didn't smile often, Mattie thought. If it weren't for the dark, dark hair, Mattie would have named Stella a sort of ice queen. Maybe she still could be? Could ice queens have dark hair?

Mattie shivered, despite herself—she hadn't liked the story of the Ice Queen in the Big Book of Fairytales.

But Stella's eyes fell on Mattie, and the cool woman quirked a smile.

"So this is Mattie Potter at ten," the woman commented.

Mattie didn't know what to say. "I'll be eleven in seven months," she informed the woman weakly. "Miss…?"

"Daniels," Stella told her. "I'm Stella Daniels."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Daniels."

" _Such_ manners," Miss Daniels smirked at Miss White. "Anyway, I shall be going. I'll see you at home, love?"

"'Round six," Miss White confirmed. The two women hugged, and Miss Daniels left.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mattie?" Miss White said, once Miss Daniels closed the door.

"MATILDA was brilliant!" Mattie enthused. "Do you have any more books by the same author?"

Miss White laughed. Beckoning Mattie to follow her, they went down to Children's Literature, to the D shelf, for Dahl. "Here, Mattie," she said, and left Mattie to it.

The next evening found Mattie in her cupboard, holding a book in one hand and an apple in the other. She hadn't been able to find a peach, but she was fairly confident peaches and apples were both enchant-able.

"Not that I want a giant peach in my cupboard," she said to Marie, "but Mr. Dahl said magic can be used on fruit, and I suppose he would know. I don't think I have any green crystals, but the magic inside me is just as magic as the crystals, _I_ think. And anyway that's why we're experimenting."

She stared very hard at the apple in her hand. Nothing happened.

She stared harder, and tried to call up the prickling in her skin, the heat in her eyes, just like Matilda. Slowly, slowly, the summoned magic began to respond to her call—she felt her hair poofing out of the bun she'd tied it in—

"Grow," she whispered to the apple. "Grow, grow, GROW!"

And with a pop, the fist-sized apple was as big as Mattie's head.

Mattie hurried to examine it from all angles. The skin was smooth and perfectly red, and when she bit into it, it was the juiciest, crunchiest, tastiest apple she'd ever had, not that she'd had many.

"Magic is awesome," she told Marie, and took another bite.

 

xxx

 

The months passed and Mattie spent more time than ever in the library, under the watchful eye of Miss White. Sometimes Miss Daniels would visit, bearing lunch for Miss White. Then eventually, Miss Daniels began bringing Mattie food too—salads, and fruits, and once, even a treacle tart! Mattie instantly decided that was her new favorite pudding.

Under Miss White's supervision, and sometimes Miss Daniels's too, Mattie devoured book after book. _James and the Giant Peach_ was read and reread, _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ oohed over, _The Little Princess_ smiled at, and _The Secret Garden_ adored.

"James was my father's name, you know," she informed Miss White once, as she paged through _James and the Giant Peach_ for the third time.

"Oh?"

"My parents' names were James Potter and Lily Evans. I was named after my grandmother, Matilda Evans."

This much, Mattie knew from Aunt Petunia. When she asked Aunt Petunia how she'd gotten her name, Aunt Petunia's eyes had gone distant and she said, "Lily named you after our mother, Matilda. The one sensible thing she ever did regarding you." And then she snapped at Mattie to do the dishes, and Mattie'd scarpered away.

Learning her father's name was a little harder. It had been Family Day at primary school, and they were supposed to make a family tree to put up around the classroom. Dudley had yelled, "Mr. Turner! Mattie can't make a family tree, she has no family! No parents!"

Mr. Turner had said, "Of course she can, Dudley. She still has her family in her heart." Mattie had bent her head over her work, utterly embarrassed.

But she couldn't make a family tree, not really, because she didn't know her father's name. So she had waited until after dinner to ask Aunt Petunia, "Aunt Petunia, what was my father's name?"

"James, Jamaal, something. James." Aunt Petunia was distracted, craning her neck over to where Mrs. Number Three was fertilizing her roses.

So Mattie had printed JAMES POTTER and LILY EVANS in her nicest script at the top of her family tree, and that had been that.

"I've always found Matilda a particularly pretty name," Miss Daniels commented, appearing behind Mattie as the library door swung open. Mattie jumped in surprise. "There's a sort of old-world elegance to it."

"Like new roses from old rosebushes," Miss White contributed. Mattie flushed darkly.

Miss Daniels smiled, and Miss White laughed, and Mattie was given a nice little lunch and they all ate together in the little staff room of the Little Whinging Library. Mattie, lying on her cot in her cupboard that night, confided to Marie that it was the happiest she'd ever been in her whole life.

xxx

 

"Tomorrow you'll be going with us to the zoo," Aunt Petunia said abruptly, the night before Dudley's eleventh birthday.

Mattie was so startled she nearly dropped the present she was wrapping. "Me? B-but why?"

"Mrs. Figg has broken her leg, hip, whatever," Aunt Petunia said. She picked up a present from Mattie's pile and arranged it nicely on the table.

Mrs. Figg was Mattie's regular babysitter, and her house was full of cats and the smell of cabbage. Mattie thought for a moment she should feel sorry for Mrs. Figg, who was a kind woman even if she did have far too many cats, but then she was much too filled with excitement to think of anything else.

The zoo! She'd get to see the _zoo,_ see lions and tigers and bears, just like in _The Wizard of Oz_ (Mattie was sorely disappointed to find out the Wizard was a fraud). She couldn't believe her luck!

She looked up at Aunt Petunia, eyes shining, and said, "Thank you, Aunt Petunia! Thank you so much!"

"Yes, well," Aunt Petunia sniffed. "No funny business, though, Matilda, do you hear me?"

Mattie nodded. "I promise."

"I can control my magic anyway," Mattie told Marie later that night. "I'm sure there won't be any…funny business."

The day dawned, and after an averted Dudley tantrum over having one present less than last year's, Mattie, Dudley, and Dudley's best friend Piers Polkiss were all squashed into Uncle Vernon's car on the way to the zoo.

_I'm in **raptures**_ , Mattie thought to herself. She'd often read the word and not really known what it meant, but now she did. It meant being so happy, so excited, she could barely sit still! It was only because she promised to behave that she sat perfectly still. She imagined herself like a boiling pot—inside was all jumping and bubbling, but outside she seemed perfectly still, maybe even bored, because there was a pot lid over all her excitement.

Beside her, Dudley and Piers chattered all about the animals they wanted to see, especially the "huge beasts! With lots of teeth! Killer tigers, right Big D?"

It was a lovely sunny Saturday, "perfect for ice creams!" Aunt Petunia declared, and bought Dudley and Piers a huge chocolate ice cream each. And then, to Mattie's everlasting shock, bought her a small vanilla cone also. As the boys rushed everyone to the tiger enclosure on their way to see killer beasts, Mattie licked her cone and thought to herself again, experimentally, _I'm in raptures._

It seemed apt, for how happy she was right then.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house, which was nice and cool after the summer heat outside. All sorts of lizards and snakes crawled around their— _habitats_ , Mattie thought to herself—scales of every color glistening in the cool dim lighting of the reptile house.

Dudley immediately found the biggest snake in the place, a gorgeous glistening brown boa constrictor. It was so big Mattie fancied it could have eaten Dudley, Uncle Vernon, _and_ Aunt Petunia and still not be full, which was a lot, if you asked her.

But it wasn't in the mood for eating. It was asleep.

"Make it move," he demanded of his father. Uncle Vernon rapped at the glass, but the snake snoozed on.

"Again," he said, and obligingly Uncle Vernon did it again, but nothing.

"Boooo _ooooring_ ," Dudley whined, and wandered off to look at poisonous cobras.

Mattie moved forward to look at the boa constrictor. According to the card next to the glass, the specimen was from Brazil, but it had never been there—it was bred in the zoo.

"Must be terrible, to not know the place you came from," she murmured to the sleeping snake. "Did you know your parents? I don't. Know mine, I mean, not yours, but I don't know yours either. Sometimes it feels like I've only ever lived at the Dursleys, forever and ever and ever."

The snake, apparently wakening, raised its head and looked at her. Heartened to have a listener, Mattie continued.

"But they must have been magic, because I'm magic. But if they were magic, how could they have died? How could they have left me?"

"Matilda Potter. Tsk tsk tsk," a voice sounded from behind her.

She whirled, only to find a strange person, dressed in black—were those _robes_? Was he a cultist?—and wearing a silvery white mask.

"Hello," she said hesitantly. She knew kids weren't supposed to talk to strangers, she had heard Aunt Petunia tell Dudley that many times, though never her—but the person knew her name. Who were they?

"Let me tell you a little something, Matilda Potter," the man—it was a man, from the voice—said. He said her name with a particular kind of relish. "Your parents were magic, and you are magic, and your parents loved you very, very much. They did not at _all_ want to leave you."

Mattie couldn't speak, she was so confused.

"In fact, if things had gone the way they were supposed to, in just a few weeks you will be going to their world," the man continued, a smile in his voice even if she couldn't see his face. "Our world, actually. The wixen world.

"Unfortunately for you—" and the man levelled a stick at her, right between her eyes, "that will now never happen. _Ava—"_

" ** _NO!_** " someone screamed, and a different voice yelled, " _Stupefy_!"

Mattie had only a glimpse of the man toppling over before someone grabbed her in a rush of silver.

"Mattie, Mattie, are you all right? Are you hurt?" Miss Daniels demanded of her, running hands all over her, checking for injuries.

"Miss _Daniels_?"

"There's no time!" Miss White cried out, appearing next to them. "The other Death Eaters are just around the corner!"

_Crack. Crack. Crack._

"There she is! Matilda Potter!" someone yelled from not too far off, and a stampede of feet headed in their direction.

_"Avada—"_

Miss White jabbed a stick of her own, and a stone wall erupted from the floor. Green light splashed against the stone, leaving it cracked but not destroyed.

"I have to get her out of here!" Miss Daniels cried.

"This isn't the way it's supposed to go—"

_"Damn_ the way it's supposed to go!"

Screaming erupted from everywhere as more black-robed, white-masked people arrived. They shouted words she didn't understand, and jets of light flew in every direction. Everywhere they hit destruction occurred: the jets of light scorched stone and shattered glass, and there was more screaming as the snakes and lizards escaped from their enclosures.

Miss White jumped out and started hurling her own jets of lights at the attackers. Birds flew from the end of her stick with a shrieked " _Avis!_ " and then with an _"Oppugno!_ " the birds flared their wings and shot straight at the black-robed people, attacking their eyes and causing them to fall over.

 Miss Daniels clutched Mattie tightly.

"Okay Mattie, I need you to be very calm," she said rapidly. "Put this on and walk carefully, quickly, and _quietly_ to the exit. Once you're there, I want you to wait for people in scarlet robes to appear. No matter what happens, you have to wait for the people in scarlet to appear. And then when they do, go to one of them and tell them who you are, okay? You'll be safe then."

"But you and Miss White—are you and Miss White magic, too?"

"Of course, we are, love," Miss Daniels smiled weakly, and pressed a kiss to Mattie's unruly hair. "Okay. Put this on."

She was handed a beautiful, clear, silvery cloth of some kind. Miss White helped her cover her entire body with it, and when she was finished—

"I'm invisible!" Mattie cried out.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," Miss Daniels said. "Okay. Make sure it doesn't fall off, all right? Now _go_."

Clutching the cloak tightly to herself, Mattie obeyed.

It was not as easy as it sounded, making her way through a debris-strewn reptile house while jets of light streaked overhead and people screamed and ran every which way. There seemed to be even more black-robed people, and Miss White and Miss Daniels were the only ones fighting back. As Mattie watched, Miss White shouted, " _Aguamenti! Glacia!_ " and encased one black-robed person in ice, while Miss Daniels shouted, " _Expelliarmus! Stupefy!_ " One man's stick flew out of his hand, and the next moment as a jet of red light hit him, the man toppled over, unconscious.

There! The exit! Mattie went there as quickly and carefully as she could. Just a little farther—she could see the sunlight—

" _Reducto!"_

" ** _NO_** _!_ " screamed Miss Daniels, and Mattie whirled back. A red jet of light hit Miss White right in the chest, blowing her back to the stone wall she'd created earlier.

" ** _MISS WHITE!_** " Mattie screamed, and ran headlong towards the two.

The ground began to shake.

"Mattie? Mattie _no_!" Miss Daniels cried out, but Mattie was far beyond hearing. The shaking intensified, sending Miss Daniels and the black-robed people to their knees; Miss Daniels sent red jets of light towards the black-robed people, and they slumped over. Cracks began to appear in the ground.

"Miss White! Please, Miss White!" Mattie cried out, reaching the unconscious woman. Only the common sense of not shaking an unconscious person stopped her from shaking her librarian.

On Miss White's chest, there was a golden chain and some sort of broken glass—that must have been what the jet of light hit. Most worrying of all was the red beginning to pool from where Miss White's head cracked against the stone wall.

Miss Daniels was utterly distraught, bending over Miss White. "Episkey! Will Ferula work—Ferula!" Before Mattie's eyes, bandages appeared on Miss White's head, wrapping around it and keeping the blood in. "Reenervate!"

Nothing happened.

"Oh Merlin," Miss Daniels moaned.

Just then, the golden chain and the broken glass began to vibrate.

Grains of sand began to rise from the ground and swirl around Miss White, turning her into the epicentre of a sand whirlpool. Miss Daniels gave a cry, and pushed Mattie away. Mattie resisted, crying out, "Miss Daniels! What's happening to Miss White?"

"Mattie, Mattie, you have to get away from her right now," Miss Daniels said, clutching at the figure inside the whirlpool. She loosed the golden chain from around Miss White's neck, and looped it around her own. "Please, Mattie, we don't know what will happen if we take you back—"

"Take me back? Take me back where? Are you part of the wixen world too?"

"Yes, but that's not where—Mattie—"

"Stupefy!" a deep voice shouted from behind Mattie.

"Protego!"

With a blinding flash of light, Miss Daniels and Miss White vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

Mattie stayed where she was, staring at the spot where Miss White and Miss Daniels had vanished. The hard floor and the gravel from the cracks in the ground hurt her knees, but she couldn't move.

Miss White—and Miss Daniels—

"Excuse me," the same deep voice said, and tapped her gently on the shoulder. Mattie's magic flared instinctively, causing the man to take a step back.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Miss—"

The man moved around her, presumably to see her better, and sucked in a deep breath at the sight of her face.

"Miss Potter," he breathed.

"How do all of you know my name," Mattie said dully, but she didn't really care. Her mind was playing the last few moments on repeat: Miss White unconscious with a pool of blood behind her head, Miss Daniels pushing her away, the flash of light and the sand whirlpool that caused them to disappear…

"But where did they go," she murmured.

"Miss Potter, I'm afraid we'll have to ask you a few questions about what happened here," the man said. Mattie looked up.

The man was dark, with a shiny bald head and the sort of calm demeanor that assured one that everything would be all right. Most of all, he was wearing scarlet robes, and that made Mattie stand up. She wobbled a little, so she accepted the man's outstretched hand.

The man led her outside the reptile house, where more people with sticks scurried about. Mattie startled to see her Aunt Petunia on the ground, head pillowed on the lap of a person in lime-green robes, light emanating from around her head.

"Aunt Petunia!" she cried out, and rushed to her. Her knees buckled, sending her skidding hard across the gravel of the sidewalk.

"She's all right, she's just being healed," the man soothed her. "When she wakes, all she'll know is that there was an earthquake at the zoo."

No funny business. Mattie felt like laughing hysterically. She had promised her aunt no funny business, and instead Aunt Petunia had gotten injured.

"What about my cousin? And my uncle? And Dudley's friend," she added.

The man pointed towards a white tent, where a steady stream of stretchers floated in and out.

"They're likely in there."

He didn't take her to the tent though. Instead, he led her towards a woman with springy black curls, who took one look at Mattie and the scar slashed across her face and gasped, "Merlin! So that's why they attacked!"

"I'm why—?"

Mattie felt her knees buckle again. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

xxx

Mattie woke slowly, the soft bed beneath her and the smell of antiseptic telling her she was not at the zoo any longer.

"I think she's awake," someone at her bedside said.

"Good," the same deep voice from earlier said. "Are you sure she's all right? We do need to ask her some questions."

"She's right as rain, but try not to startle her or anything; she's had a shock, and she's expended a lot of magic. Merlin, an  _ earthquake _ —the Muggles must be having a fit."

"Could you expect any less of the Girl-Who-Lived?" the voice of the woman from earlier said excitedly.

"Crickerly," the deep voice reprimanded. There was a conspicuous silence.

Mattie opened her eyes then, blinking at the lights. She was in hospital, she guessed, though she'd never really been to a hospital before. She'd seen hospitals on the telly, though, and this looked pretty much the same as that.

The man cleared his throat, and Mattie turned to look at him. He smiled at her with very white teeth.

"Welcome back, Miss Potter," he said. Mattie attempted a smile, but thought it might have become more of a grimace.

"As I was saying before, perhaps you could tell us what happened during the attack on Surrey zoo?"

Mattie did. She described the man who accosted her—a description that made the woman, Crickerly, scribble madly onto a piece of yellowish paper—then how Miss White and Miss Daniels saved her, and then how they vanished in a swirl of sand.

Crickerly seemed very interested in Miss White's broken necklace, as well as the sand that took them away.

"And you're sure it was sand, Miss Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And there was a long golden chain around their necks?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Crickerly and the man exchanged looks.

"Shacklebolt, that would explain why we can't identify any of the Death Eaters!" Crickerly said excitedly, her curls seeming to  _ ping _ off her head. "They were—"

" _ Crickerly _ ," Shacklebolt reprimanded again.

"More to the point," he said, "who are these Miss White and Miss Daniels characters? Can you tell us about them?"

"Miss White—Miss Mary White—is the librarian at the Little Whinging library," Mattie said, "and Miss Stella Daniels is her friend."

"Mary White…Stella Daniels…" Crickerly wrote busily. "Those don't sound like wixen names."

"Could be aliases," Shacklebolt offered, as Mattie said, "But they are! Miss Daniels told me they were from the wixen world, too, and to wait for people in scarlet robes. She said once you arrived I'd be safe," she remembered.

"Probably not Death Eaters, then, if they were protecting Miss Potter."

"No, but constant vigilance," Shacklebolt said, quirking a smile.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, Ms. Crickerly, why did that man want to hurt me?" Mattie asked.

"Because you're the Girl-Who-Lived!" Crickerly burst out, obviously surprised at Mattie's question.

"I'm the what?"

"You mean—you mean you don't know who you  _ are _ ?" Crickerly gasped.

"I'm Mattie Potter," was all Mattie could think of to say.

"Exactly!"

"Crickerly, that's enough," Shacklebolt said. "We are confusing and distressing Miss Potter, and the healer specifically said not to startle her. She's had a shock."

"But Shacklebolt! She doesn't know who she  _ is _ !"

" **_Hush_ ** ," Shacklebolt said. "Miss Potter, I know you must have many questions, but I don't think I'm the person to answer them."

"But I am," a voice from the doorway said. Mattie, Shacklebolt, and Crickerly turned.

A man with a hooked nose and swirling black robes stood there at the doorway, raising an eyebrow at all of them.

"Professor Snape!" gasped Crickerly, in tones of abject terror, while Shacklebolt said pleasantly, "Hello, Snape. What brings you here?"

Mattie on the other hand clutched at her bedclothes, seeing only the  black robes and assuming the worst. But when the man didn't draw a stick or attack any of them, she relaxed.

He wasn't wearing a mask, she noted, so he probably was not a Death Eater. Whatever those were.

The man—Mr. Snape? Professor Snape? Mattie thought it was safer to call him Mr. Snape—drew a letter from inside his robes, drew his stick, and flicked the letter towards Mattie. She flinched at the sight of the stick, but caught the letter anyway.

"Miss Potter was supposed to receive her letter within the next few weeks," he said coolly, "but due to today's circumstances, the Headmaster decided she should get her letter early, as well as have a member of staff on-hand to answer any questions she might have."

His tone indicated exactly what he thought of the whole chore.

"You mean it's true, then," Crickerly said, in tones of wonderment. "Matilda Potter doesn't know a whit about her story!"

"She will now," Shacklebolt said repressively. "Crickerly, once we get back to the office we are going to have a talk on how to behave in front of witnesses. Snape, Miss Potter—a good day to you."

Mr. Snape inclined his head the barest amount, while Mattie attempted another smile for Shacklebolt and Crickerly.

"Well, Miss Potter?" Mr. Snape said impatiently. "We haven't got all day! Open the letter!"

In emerald ink, the address read:

_ Miss M. Potter _

_ The Cupboard Under the Stairs _

_ Number Four, Privet Drive _

_ Little Whinging _

_ Surrey _

On the other side was a purple wax seal with a coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a big letter  _ H. _

Mattie ran her fingers across the thick yellowish paper in utter wonderment.

"How'd they know about my cupboard?" she wondered aloud. Mr. Snape flinched.

Instead of breaking the seal, Mattie carefully lifted the wax off the paper, setting it on the bedside table to keep for later. She then slid out two pieces of paper. Picking one up, she read:

_ Dear Miss Potter, _

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_ Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Minerva McGonagall _

_ Deputy Headmistress _

"Witchcraft and wizardry," she said softly, tasting the words on her mouth. "Witchcraft and wizardry. Is that what I can do, then?"

"And what, exactly, is it that you do, Miss Potter?" Mr. Snape said.

"All sorts," Mattie breathed, her incidents of magic springing to mind one after the other. "I can make things grow bigger or smaller if I want to. I flew once. And I turned something orange…And I think I caused an earthquake," she said shamefacedly.

A single black eyebrow rose eloquently in question.

"I assume you mean the earthquake that hit Surrey zoo just this afternoon?"

Mattie nodded.

"Mr. Snape, sir?"

"What is it?" he bit out. "And call me Professor, for that is what I am. I teach Potions at Hogwarts, where you will be attending."

"It's just, Professor—what does this all mean? I don't understand, I—"

"Merlin save us, she's a  _ Muggleborn _ ," Professor Snape snarled. "You, Miss Potter, are a witch. Because you are a witch, you will be attending Hogwarts, the premier school for witchcraft and wizardry. You will study magic there for seven years. What else is there you do not understand?"

Mattie shrank, but then screwed up her courage some more. "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Owls are the wixen method of messaging, Miss Potter," Professor Snape said. "You give a letter to an owl, clearly addressed, and the owl will be able to deliver the message to the person you wish to mail."

"And what did Ms. Crickerly mean—I'm the Girl-Who-Lived?"

For the first time in the whole conversation, Professor Snape was at a loss for words. He sank down on the squashy purple armchair next to Mattie's hospital bed, then scowled and with a flick of his stick turned the armchair into a straight-backed, black wooden chair.

"Also—what is that stick?" Mattie added.

"This is called a wand, Miss Potter, not a  _ stick _ ," Professor Snape said. "As for being the Girl-Who-Lived…did Petunia really tell you nothing? Do you at least know how your—parents died?"

"In a car crash," Mattie said promptly.

"In a—in a  _ car crash _ ?" Professor Snape choked out. "A car crash kill  _ Lily Evans _ ?"

"You knew my mother?"

"We were…we were friends as children," Professor Snape said. "Petunia told you  _ Lily Evans  _ died in a car crash? The woman could  _ fly _ as a child, and a car crash was supposed to kill her?"

"She could fly? I can fly too, a little," Mattie said wonderingly.

Professor Snape ignored her.

"Dear Lord, she's a Muggleborn," he muttered again. "And I refuse to be the one who tells the child about—I refuse. Miss Potter," he barked. "Do you feel ill anywhere? Are you up to checking out of St. Mungo's? St. Mungo's is this very hospital you're lying in," he added, to stop Mattie's next question.

"I—I suppose?" Mattie said. "But sir, I think I should be getting back home to Surrey." She couldn't say "Aunt Petunia will be worrying for me," because she wouldn't be, but she could say "Aunt Petunia will be very cross with me for not coming home promptly."

"Ah, yes," Professor Snape sneered. "Petunia Evans. I shall have words with her later. The question remains, Miss Potter: Can you leave this hospital room?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Get up. Your clothing is on that table there."

With a start, Mattie realized she was no longer wearing the t-shirt and overalls ensemble she had put on that morning, but rather a plain white hospital gown. Professor Snape obligingly retreated as she pulled on her clothes, but he did wrinkle his nose at the bloodstains on her knees.

He waved his wand and the blood and dirt stains disappeared. With another strange word, the holes in the overalls were fixed, and even the seam Mattie had been meaning to sew up was repaired as well.

"Ready?" he asked Mattie.

"Where are we going, sir?" Mattie asked.

"To the wixen world.”


	5. Chapter 5

They went through the Floo Network, which was travelling by fireplace. Mostly it went well, with Professor Snape tersely explaining, "This powder is magical. If you throw it onto a fireplace that is connected to the Floo Network, and call the name of the place you want to arrive at, you can step into the fire and emerge wherever it is you wished to go."

He took a pinch of green powder and threw it onto the fireplace. "Say 'Hogwarts headmaster's office," he instructed, "and step into the fire."

Mattie took a deep breath and did so. Then there was a  _ whoosh  _ of green fire and she was suddenly deposited somewhere she'd never been before.

It was a circular room, dominated by a huge claw-foot desk and a red, throne-like chair. The room was filled with the crackling of the fire and strange noises coming from intricate silver contraptions scattered about the room. The walls were decorated with portraits of various people, who were—were they  _ breathing?  _ And, oh, that portrait was moving!

"Ah, welcome," a man's voice said, somewhere off to her left. Mattie whirled. Standing at an adjoining door was a man who seemed to be very old, if his long, waist-length white hair and beard was any indication. He wore purple robes patterned with stars and moons, as well as half-moon spectacles perched over a nose that looked like it had been broken at least twice.

"Miss Matilda Potter, I assume," he said, sitting at the red throne. His bright blue eyes sparkled brightly at her. "You're here at Hogwarts a bit early, aren't you? Lemon drop?"

Gobsmacked, Mattie looked at the small dish of lemon drops the man was holding out. "No, thank you," she managed. She wasn't about to accept sweets from a stranger!

The fire flared again, and Professor Snape stepped out.

"Headmaster!" he said, as soon as he was done shaking the soot from his robes. (Mattie looked down and saw her own clothes were soot-stained; before she could do anything about it, Professor Snape had already flicked his wand and cleaned everything off of her.) "This girl knows nothing about— _ anything!" _

Mattie thought this a bit much. She'd fair marks in school, after all. But she didn't think it wise to say so, not when Professor Snape was so obviously on a tear.

"Really, Severus," the headmaster said.  "You exaggerate, I'm certain."

"The girl did not even know what a wand was! Much less her role in defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

He who what now?

"But really, where are my manners," the old man said, turning to Mattie. "Hello, Miss Potter. My name is Albus Dumbledore. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, if we're being exact, but you may call me Professor Dumbledore. How do you do?" He extended a hand.

Mattie took the aged hand and shook it. "Well, thank you," she said. "My name is Matilda Anne Potter."

Professor Snape gave a funny twitch.

"Headmaster," he said, "you  _ must  _ tell her about her history. You can't let her go to Hogwarts not knowing, and, and getting a swelled head from all this nonsense! Causing an earthquake, indeed!"

"You caused an earthquake?" Professor Dumbledore asked Mattie, interested.

"Not. The. Point," Professor Snape snarled.

The sparkle in the headmaster's eyes dimmed to a sad twinkle, and he sighed heavily. "You are right, Severus, of course you are right…sit down, Miss Potter…may I call you Mattie?"

"You may," Mattie said, flabbergasted.

"This is not an easy tale to tell, and I hope you will bear with me…are you sure you shan't have a lemon drop?"

xxx

So that was it, that was what happened, and that was why Mattie Potter was the Girl-Who-Lived. Because she'd survived when her parents hadn't.

"Love," Professor Dumbledore said gravely. "Your mother's love enacted a very powerful protection charm upon you, Mattie; she gave her life that you might live. Voldemort, using a curse that literally commands one to die, could not break such unflinching resistance, and thus his curse failed—and left you with only that scar."

Mattie was openly crying, now. Professor Dumbledore conjured a handkerchief of the same pattern as his robes, and handed it to Mattie. Professor Snape had not left the room, but he was standing as far away as possible from Professor Dumbledore and Mattie, his back turned to them.

"But sir," Mattie asked, sniffling, "why did the Death Eaters come after me?"

"Revenge," Professor Snape said suddenly, turning to her. "They wanted to stop you from rejoining the wixen world entirely, and I suppose they took the opportunity to do so when they found you at the zoo."

"But—they wouldn't have been able to kill me anyway, right?"

"Incorrect. Your mother's protection only works against the Dark Lord."

So she could still be killed after all. Mattie felt uncomfortable—she didn't like thinking of being killed, and of course she wanted to live and learn to become a great witch, but it had been rather odd to think that she  _ couldn't  _ be killed no matter what. She'd rather have had the option.

"And now!" Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands, as if clearing the air. "I understand you have some questions about the wixen world, all of which, I think, can be answered by this—" a pamphlet sped into his hand—"and these." Books piled themselves on his other hand, and he handed the whole lot to Mattie, who thanked him and immediately took to reading them. "If you take the time to study these before term starts, you should be quite up-to-date on wixen culture, Mattie. And of course, you can always buy supplementary materials at Diagon Alley."

"Diagon Alley? What's that?"

"Oh, for the love of the Christ Child," Professor Snape said. "This is what I meant about her not knowing anything about anything!"

"Severus," the headmaster said quellingly. "I had meant to send Hagrid with her on her shopping trip to Diagon Alley—he would surely be up to the task of informing Mattie about the world she now moves in."

"Hagrid?  _ Hagrid _ ? Hagrid couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it," Professor Snape sneered. "He would be yelling all over the Leaky to 'make way, make way, Girl-Who-Lived coming through.' "

"Well, who do you suggest should take her?"

"Minerva will assist the Muggleborns in acclimating to the magical world, will she not? Why not treat Miss Potter as just another Muggleborn?"

"Because she is not."

Mattie, who had been leafing through the pamphlet,  _ You're a Wix, Matilda!  _ immediately looked for the word "Muggleborn" in the glossary. According to the pamphlet, a Muggleborn was someone who was born to Muggle (she looked up the word Muggle, and it meant non-magical) parents, and grew up in the Muggle world. She wasn't  _ technically  _ a Muggleborn, because her parents were magic, but she did grow up in the nonmagical world…

"Am I a pureblood, then?" she asked.

"You are not," Professor Snape answered. "To be a technical pureblood, all your grandparents must be magical. Your mother was a Muggleborn; thus, you are a halfblood."

"So my father was a pureblood?"

"Yes," he bit out.

_ You're a Wix, Matilda! _ blinked at her, the  _ Matilda  _ changing colors a few times per second. Mattie suspected that if she handed the pamphlet to Professor Snape, the name would change to  _ You're a Wix, Severus!  _ "Oh," she said. "Where is Diagon Alley? Maybe  I can go alone."

"Absolutely not," Professor Snape snapped, as Professor Dumbledore said, "I think not, my dear girl."

"Charity Burbage, then," Professor Snape said. "She's the Muggle Studies teacher, and well-versed in moving in both Muggle and magical worlds."

"But Mattie has no familiarity with Charity," Professor Dumbledore said. "Nor has Charity any superiority—she does not even have tenure, in fact."

"Filius."

"On holidays."

"Pomona."

"In the Caribbean, picking up some rare plants."

"Fine," Professor Snape snarled. "I can see where you are maneuvering me,  Headmaster, and fine! I agree. I shall take Matilda Potter to Diagon Alley."

"But what a wonderful idea, Severus," Professor Dumbledore said warmly. "And you being childhood friends with Lily and Petunia. Do give her my regards—I hear she has a son about Mattie's age?"

Professor Snape snarled incoherently, but could not say anything else.

"Now off you go!" Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And good travels!"

"To the Muggles," Professor Snape sneered. "And to Petunia, with whom I will have  _ words _ ."

xxx

Mattie was treated to another form of magical travel, which was Apparation. She would have hated it, if not for her wonder at being in one place when just a moment ago she was miles away!

"We were in Scotland," Professor Snape informed her, at her question of their location earlier.

They went up the driveway to Number Four. Professor Snape rapped, and Aunt Petunia opened the door.

"You!" she snarled, and Mattie automatically curled in on herself before realizing she was snarling at Professor Snape. "I should have known it was  _ your  _ kind that caused all that trouble at the zoo.  And you!" Her hand shot out and grabbed Mattie, dragging her through the door and shoving her at her cupboard. "Didn't you promise no funny business? This is what I get for—"

"Actually, Petunia, the earthquake at Surrey zoo was purely natural causes," Professor Snape said smoothly. "The wixen were only there because Matilda Potter was injured."

Aunt Petunia turned to Mattie, worry flickering momentarily across her features. Mattie was mute with shock.

"And what are  _ you  _ doing here, anyway?" she asked Professor Snape rudely.

Professor Snape smirked. "Why, Petunia," he said, "isn't it nearly her eleventh birthday? What did you expect, that we would just not come to get her?"

"Ten years your lot ignored her, ever since you dumped her with us," Aunt Petunia growled, "and just as she's becoming— _ normal— _ you come and take her away? To what, get her blown up just like Lily?"

"Ah, yes,  _ blown up just like Lily _ ." How Professor Snape managed to make that sound like a hiss, Mattie didn't know. "All those years lying to Matilda about who she is and what her parents were. You couldn't have told her she was magical, Petunia? You couldn't have told the truth about how Lily died?"

Aunt Petunia began to laugh, an ugly sound.

"So this is what this is about!" she said. "You and your  _ sainted  _ Lily. How many years has it been? Ten years it's been, twenty, and you're still holding a torch!"

"And how many years has it been for  _ you _ , Petunia?" Professor Snape said sibilantly. "Ten? Twenty? And you take out your anger against Lily on her daughter. Miss Potter, give me your letter," he commanded, and Mattie knew not to disobey. She pulled the letter out of her overalls pocket and handed it to him.

_ "Miss M. Potter, the cupboard under the stairs, _ " Professor Snape read. Aunt Petunia went white. "What else did you do to her? Oh, I can guess. Dangerously underfed,  _ miniscule  _ for her age, and those clothes weren't even hers, I'd wager!"

"Hey!" Mattie cried out. "I'm no thief!"

"I did not say you were, Miss Potter," Professor Snape bit out. "Idiot Gryffindor! But those are hand-me-downs, are they not?"

Mattie held her head high, even as she heard Isobel Grange's voice resounding in her head. "They are, but I sewed them myself. They aren't  _ ugly _ ."

"No, they are not," Professor Snape agreed. "Lily and Petunia always had a talent for sewing. They had to, growing up as they did. And after all those promises of making it out, Petunia, you did the exact same thing to her daughter!"

"You and  _ Saint Lily _ ," Aunt Petunia sneered. It seemed like all she could say.

"Well, let me tell you right now, Petunia, this is going to change," Professor Snape went on ruthlessly. "You will give this girl a proper bedroom, and proper clothing, and you will  _ feed  _ her, do you hear me? And if you don't—" he waved the letter—"The Muggle authorities  _ will  _ find out how you treated this child. And believe me, the wixen have ways of convincing Muggles, even if you do try to clean up the evidence." He cast a glare at the cupboard under the stairs.

He pushed forward into the house, and opened the cupboard door.  He looked at it intensely, and then waved his wand. It didn't seem to do anything that Mattie could see, but he nodded as if satisfied, then shut the door.

"I will return to take her to Diagon Alley when term approaches," he said. "And just so we are clear, I will be sending her owls every so often so she can report on what's been happening in this house. I will be watching, Tuney _." _

And with a crack, he disappeared.

 


End file.
